


Cannolis and Ableism

by r0sie



Series: The Human Condition Series [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blind Race AU, HERE IT IS FOLKS, M/M, the crutchie n race friendship you wanted, they bake, they share, who could ask for anything more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0sie/pseuds/r0sie
Summary: They bake/cook, go on a field trip, and share. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, it's your favorite boys: Race and Crutchie!





	Cannolis and Ableism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carbon65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/gifts).



> ok folks, this set anytime between Ch. 15 and Ch. 17 of The Human Condition. It can be read without the context of THC (I really enjoy that acronym) but it'd still be helpful to read up.

“I have the old cannoli recipe di mia madre around here somewhere...I never use real directions, I just google stuff I need, especially since most of them are handwritten, so I haven’t touched our recipe box in forever,” Race was talking distractedly as he moved about the kitchen, opening cupboards and feeling around inside. 

 

“Cream cannoli, cream cannoli, give me the formuoli,” Crutchie muttered, eyeing Race from his stool at the counter and grinning.

 

Race immediately turned and slammed him open palm down on the counter and screamed with a completely straight face:

“I cannot work in an environment that perpetuates DEAD MEMES”. 

He then turned back around and continued calmly and methodically searching through the cupboards. Crutchie just raised his hands in the air in defeat.

 

“Okay, calm down edgelord. You sure you don’t want me to search any of the other cabinets?”

 

“Nah, there’s just a few more, I know they’re not by the sink,” Race responded, crouching in front of the last couple small cupboards underneath the larger pantry area, “I don’t think these’ve been opened in a while. I feel like sneezing just thinking about it”. Race pulled open one of the doors, stuck his hand in, and pulled it out a few moments later covered in dust bunnies.

 

“Oh, phenomenal, I feel like I’m wearing a glove of allergens”.

 

Race pulled open the last cupboards and mumbled a small “aha” as he pulled out a small cardboard box decorated with blue and yellow flowers. 

 

“It’s pretty,” Crutchie commented as he got up to take the box to look through it while Race washed his hands of dust. 

 

“Yeah, I painted it when I was like eleven or something, for ma’s birthday. She filled it with her favorite recipes and gave it back to me when I moved out. Nowadays I keep meaning to dig it out and get the recipes put into the computer so I can actually use them, but…,” he trailed off and shrugged, drying his hands on a dishtowel. 

 

“Found it!” Crutchie said a few minutes later, holding a wrinkled piece of paper in his hand. 

 

“If I remember correctly, they don’t take any weird ingredients that I wouldn’t have, so read ‘em off and I’ll get stuff out”.

 

It was going well until they realized that Race’s container of lemon zest was actually empty.

 

“Field trip,” Race announced, “I’ll grab my coat and we’ll go down to the Walgreens on the corner”. Crutchie grabbed his other crutch from where he’d left it by door and waited while Race pulled his leather jacket from the back of the couch and slipped on his red Converse. 

 

“You ready?” Race asked, pulling his keys and cane from where they hung near the door.

 

“It’s adventure time,” grinned Crutchie, stepping through the now open door, “lock the door, I’ll go push the elevator button”.

 

________________________________

 

Forty minutes later, the boys had made it back to the apartment with the lemon zest as well as some other items they definitely hadn’t need, but hey, who isn’t a sucker for half-off pretzels? Nine bags to be exact, but who was asking. They were also still poking some harmless fun at the employee behind the counter, who had seemed a little overwhelmed by the pure amount of, apparently, inspiration, she had come across in the two boys. 

 

“Ya know Race, it’s really the only reason I leave my apartment at all, is to bring inspiration to the people of New York. Because, apparently, if I can get up in the morning with a slight divergence to what’s considered normal human functioning, everybody else’s problems no longer exist. It’s really extraordinary, honestly”.

 

“Sono d’accordo, Crutchie. Sometimes I choose to cross streets unnecessarily so a self-dubbed good samaritan can help me across it even though I have it under control. I exist primarily to make others feel better about themselves, ya know?”

 

“People, sometimes, geez,” Crutchie shook his head, though he was still grinning. 

 

“Although I think I handle other people better than Spot does most of the time. Maybe it’s just because he sees the stares. I’m kind of immune to that by nature of the thing that attracts it,” Race shrugged. Spot had little patience and a tendency to snap on people that bothered Race. Race was pretty decent at listening to people talk about their own blind family members and/or friends and responding with generic, appraising phrases when they began to make suggestions as to how he might better his own life. Ignoring it until he could get away was easier than getting frustrated and being met with pity and a ‘guess he’s sensitive about it’ kind of remark.

Crutchie nodded.

 

“I can see how the protective side of Spot would come out in those situations. Jack’s been trying to get used to how differently people act when I’m around. He hasn’t even seen the worst of it yet, honestly, just a few ‘I’m glad you’re still smiling’s and and some curious kids. The real fun begins the first time we go out on low spoonage with the wheelchair,” Crutchie laughed, faking indifference. Kids rarely bothered him. Unless he was in a really bad mood and/or exceedingly low on spoons, he liked kids and they typically liked him. Crutchie didn’t mind the questions because they came from a place of genuine curiosity, not from a desire to fix him or pity him. Adults were a whole other story. They shushed the kids and, in doing so, taught them that people who were different weren’t worthy of understanding or weren’t available for discussions. Adults were also always the ones that made comments about Crutchie’s smile. He got those comments a lot, presumably because of his typically happy-go-lucky personality, and they bothered him more than he let on. Even friends of his sometimes automatically assumed that any emotion he had was associated with his leg. If he was upset, it must be because his leg hurt. If he was tired, it must be because his leg had kept him up all night. And if he was happy, it must be in spite of his disability, not existent alongside it. Race looked thoughtful. 

 

“Ah, yes, the happy comments. I had someone tell me they were glad I was trying to live my life fully and happily despite all the hardship I must endure the other day. He actually used the word ‘endure’. I was tempted throw a punch, but I probably would’ve hit Spot instead,” he laughed, “Not that I would have minded”.

 

“OH! I have a good one,” Crutchie grinned, “I had a girl ask me why I didn’t just cut my leg off since it didn’t work anyway. Sometimes, I try to set people straight when they ask rude or invasive questions, but on that one, I kind of just mumbled ‘what the fuck’ at her and walked away. I had no idea how to respond,” Crutchie laughed as Race gave a surprised chuckle.

 

“That’s crazy. I haven’t encountered anyone quite that bold yet, but I’ve had way too many experiences with idiots literally yelling at me because apparently if I can’t see I must also be hard of hearing? Not really sure how that one computes. My favorite, though, was when a girl tried to pick me up and used my eyesight in her line. She DMed me on instagram and said something like ‘hey cutie, how is ur hair done so perf if you can’t see it?’ and I said something like ‘genetics. it’s also styled mostly by my bf playing with it’ and then I blocked her. Spot laughed at me about it for days”.

 

By the time the Crutchie had finished baking the cannolis, Race was ready to slide his homemade pizza in the oven. They had both timed it pretty meticulously so that the pizza would be done and cooling when Jack and Spot got back from work and the cannolis would be chilling after being filled. They’d purposely scheduled a day in the kitchen together when Jack and Spot both had to work so that the food actually got made, and without pieces being stolen throughout the process. Crutchie finished filling the cannolis as Race put away the last of his ingredients, and they packed away the finished product to chill as the smell of fresh tomato and cheese permeated the apartment. 

 

“I’m going out on the fire escape for a smoke, you want one?” Race asked.

 

“No thanks, I’ll just wait in here til the boys get back. I’ll watch a Brooklyn Nine-Nine rerun or something,” Crutchie responded, throwing himself down on the couch and beginning the routine massage of his leg with one hand and grabbing the remote with the other. 

 

“Whatever floats your goat,” Race said with a shrug before climbing out.

 

“Okay,” said Crutchie, “wait...what?”


End file.
